


solace in lies

by corvidlesbian



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Canaan House, Character Study, Did I mention the swords, Gen, Sparring, Swordfighting, gethectd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:32:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24579076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidlesbian/pseuds/corvidlesbian
Summary: When the Warden gives Camilla a day off, Coronabeth engages her in an impromptu duel.
Relationships: Camilla Hect & Coronabeth Tridentarius
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	solace in lies

The Warden had given Camilla the day off, intent on going through all of his notes in the hopes of finding something new. His reasoning was that he didn’t need her for that, but that was a pale excuse. They both knew she was helpful when it came to analysis, and his real reason was that he would be spreading out his flimsies all over the floor and making a mess and he knew how much it would irritate her. The walls were fine- they weren’t using the walls for anything, and the flimsy was all tacked up where it wouldn’t get in the way- but the floor meant she couldn’t walk around or move without sending flimsy into the air. It was impossible for her to live like that.

Camilla spent two hours in the next room over, doing drills with her shortswords, before getting impatient and bursting back into their room. Flimsies fluttered out of the way of the door. The room was a mess- even her bed was covered. The Warden had spilled ink next to himself somehow, in a horrifying puddle of black.

He tutted sharply upon her arrival. “Camilla, if you disrupt my process, I cannot be held accountable for what happens next. Give me nine hours and I will have everything cleaned up.”

That was as much a threat as it was a plea- to just be patient with him, please- so Camilla, not willingly, exited their premises with her rapier at her side. She wasn’t entirely sure where she was going. She reached the end of the hall that led to their quarters and paused, considering. Was she really going to wander Canaan House for the entire day without the Warden? Yes, she decided. She didn’t have his eidetic memory, so she hadn’t memorized the full layout of the tower yet. First, however, she would need food.

She took an indirect route to the meal hall to fill her stomach with an early lunch. When she arrived, the hall was empty but for the golden Princess of Ida, alone without her cavalier or her shadow of a sister. When Camilla sat down with her bowl, they made eye contact, which Camilla instantly regretted. Princess Coronabeth beamed and waved her over, and when Camilla steadfastly remained where she was, the princess moved to sit beside her.

“I do think it’s silly that everyone is acting so alienated from each other,” Princess Corona said, sliding into the bench across from her. “If we should become Lyctors, surely the King Undying would want us to get along.”

Camilla finished chewing. “It doesn’t mean we have to be friends.”

Princess Corona gave a light laugh. “But wouldn’t it be nice?” At Camilla’s stony silence, where she shovelled more food into her mouth, Corona said delightedly: “You’re nothing like what I expected.”

Corona paused in her attempt at fraternizing to continue eating her lunch, and Camilla finished as quickly as possible while still keeping her dignity. Palamedes had suggested they avoid consorting with the other pairs as much as possible, and she had agreed. Now she was stuck with the indomitable Princess of the Third, and it was rather hard to maintain her silence. She almost wished that she had taken a vow of silence, like the Ninth cavalier: after a while, she supposed, it would become a habit rather than an effort.

She finished her last bite and stood abruptly. “Have a nice day,” she said, not unkindly, and left the bowl for the skeletons to clean up.

The next hour was spent sweeping through the dark halls of Canaan House, memorizing each doorway and each creaking floorboard. She stayed away from any of the places that she and Palamedes frequented, in case anybody was following behind without her knowledge. It wouldn’t have surprised her to learn that there were revenants trapped in its walls. The House seemed filled with loneliness, as if a person left to rot.

She ended up in the outer corridors of the tower, the ones that had windows big enough to let the yellow light of Dominicus stream in and fill the halls. A glass door leading to the terraces had been left open, allowing fresh air to rush inside the vestibule. Camilla could feel from the breeze that it was a pleasant temperature outside. She slipped through the door onto the bright terrace, squinting momentarily from the change in ambient light. Once her eyes had adjusted, she checked all around- including the windows in the tower facing the terrace- before, satisfied she was alone, she made her way toward the edge of the terrace. 

There was a long way to walk from the outside door to the crumbling iron railings blocking off the cliff, but Camilla appreciated the sight of the ocean and revelled in the chance to stretch her legs. Concrete planters that had withstood the test of time stood guard on either side of the main path. Safe in the knowledge that no one was watching, she indulged herself by leaping onto one, balancing on the edge, and then jumping to the next one in the row.

A dead, grey hedge obstructed her vision of two corners of the terrace, and once she realized this, she stepped down from the planter and walked normally the rest of the way. It was the right decision. As she passed the hedge, she could see Princess Coronabeth on the other side.

Corona’s robe was hung on the hedge, and she was dressed in her underclothes. In only shorts and a flimsy top, Camilla could see that Corona actually had a fair bit of muscle underneath her skin. This was even more apparent due to the fact that she was holding a rapier and a shining knife and, apparently, practicing her advances and retreats. Interesting.

Corona was facing towards the path, and the instant she spotted Camilla she dropped the point of her sword to the ground. “Hello again!” Corona called. When Camilla didn’t respond, she said, “Would you do me the honour of indulging me for a match?”

Camilla was not perfect. If she had been, she would simply turned and walked the other way, or gone to stare down at the sea like her initial plan. Instead, she moved closer, inspecting the necromancer’s rapier. It was her cavalier’s, she realized. The make was clearly Third, and she recognized the knife. Tern preferred a specific knife, but he wore others occasionally, and this was one of those. The princess must have taken it from under his nose. She wondered if he knew.

“No, it’s not my sword,” Corona said smilingly. “It’s my cavalier’s. It’s his least favourite, so he won’t notice- or, he hasn’t yet.”

That had fascinating implications. 

“To the first touch?” Corona asked, assuming that Camilla had agreed to a bout by approaching her. 

Camilla, despite herself, was curious what a duel between a cavalier and a necromancer would look like. She was also not immune to Corona’s charms, as much as she pretended to be. She drew her sword reluctantly and moved to stand several paces away, pointing her blade down.

Corona moved a few paces back as well, smiling for some odd reason. “Shall I call?” she asked.

“Go ahead,” Camilla said, not knowing exactly what ‘calling’ entailed.

“And… begin,” Corona said.

They both hesitated at first, and then Corona took the first few steps toward her. Camilla followed her lead.

She went easy. The first flick of her rapier against the other woman’s was light and restrained. Coronabeth pushed the blade away with her Third knife, parried, and pressed her so Camilla would give ground. Camilla allowed this. She was forced to admit that Corona’s form, footwork, and technique all seemed good. For a necromancer, she was incredible; for anybody else, still fairly impressive.

Camilla didn’t show off. Simple thrusts, conserved movement, knocking Corona’s offhand away with half the strength she would use in a real fight. The necromancer took it easily, her breath coming quickly but not betraying any weakness. Camilla spent more effort trying to remember the basic moves than she did on the actual fight. She was everything others might expect of the Sixth: a middling cavalier, without much real skill. Someone who wouldn’t stand a chance in a competitive duel. Let them keep thinking that.

What happened next, Camilla didn’t try to dodge. It was a clean move, and Camilla might have even called it “good” if Corona hadn’t given away her intention with the sudden intense furrow of her brows. When she feinted, Camilla followed the trap- parried it with her rapier- and Corona easily trapped her sword between her own blades and wrenched it out of her grip. Camilla didn’t bother resisting it, loosening her hand to let her sword fall.

The Princess of Ida looked disappointed. She let her sword arm drop, pointing at the floor. “Match goes to me.”

“Well done,” Camilla said brusquely, sheathing her knife. She picked her sword up off the ground where it lay and inspected it for nicks. Nothing she couldn’t fix.

“I think you were going easy on me.”

Camilla didn’t respond to that, still checking over her blade. “You telegraphed your intention to feint,” she said. “Your face gave you away.”

“You  _ were _ going easy on me,” Coronabeth said, with a rather unprincesslike huff.

“You were good, Princess,” Camilla said. “For a necromancer.”

“That means less than nothing. What do you really think?”

Camilla rocked back on her heels slightly, readjusting her fingers over the hilt of her sword and staring Corona straight in the eyes. “I think you need to get a better poker face.”

To Corona’s credit, she took instruction very well: Camilla couldn’t see her thrust coming by her expression. Sheer instinct had her sword fling the blade to the side with excessive force, lightning fast, avoiding an injury but leaving her guard open. Luckily, or more accurately: by design, the strength of it took Corona by surprise. By the time she had recovered, Camilla had her knife drawn and her sword back in a perfect line in front of her.

She had already shown her hand with her initial move, which didn’t bode well. She wouldn’t do it again. She let the other woman press her, retreating to avoid the consistent swipe of Corona’s sword. Corona kept advancing, the frustration showing on her face for a moment before she blinked hard and shook it away. Corona was sweating. Camilla measured the distance between them, analyzed Corona’s defence, parried her next thrust, and served the perfect riposte. She pressed the tip of her sword gently to Corona’s chest.

Corona didn’t stop. She took advantage of Camilla’s momentary lapse and tried the same disarm that she had used earlier. Unsure what rules they were playing by and not wanting to find out, Camilla refused to give up her sword. She tightened her grip on its hilt to a painful degree, ignoring the twinge in her wrist as Corona twisted it viciously; she lashed out with her offhand, and Corona had no choice but to stop levering Camilla’s sword so she could parry the blow. Corona seemed to revel in it.

Camilla had lost nearly all her room to retreat in her initial attempt to end the fight, and was now operating under the assumption that if the princess got the opportunity to hit her, she would simply run her through. Camilla was giving herself away and she knew it, but Coronabeth was a better fighter than she had expected and if she let herself get stabbed in the nine hours she was out of Palamedes’s sight he would never let her out of his sight again.

It was sheer luck that Corona was not more perceptive. Camilla noticed every lapse in her own guard, but despite the manic focus in Corona’s wide-eyed gaze, the necromancer didn’t have the same eye for it. Camilla left her chest open but Corona went for a simple thrust, allowing Camilla to counter it normally. Camilla left more openings than Corona, but Camilla was faster. Not by enough- that was the problem. Corona wasn’t as fast as Camilla, but she was still  _ fast _ , which meant Camilla’s speed was not as big an advantage as it usually was.

It had to end soon. Camilla imagined the other twin’s bloodless face in her mind’s eye, and the smug face of her cavalier, and if either of them ended up challenging her she wanted to keep the element of surprise. She knew Tern’s reputation. Every sweep of her blade, neatly folding Corona’s out of the way, gave herself away. She was not enough of a fool to believe that her opponent wasn’t filing all of this information away for later.

There was a pang in Camilla’s wrist as she slid her sword past Corona’s defence, and she let out a quiet exhale through her teeth. It wasn’t enough pain to affect her attack, but it had the unintentional effect of causing Corona to hesitate for a nanosecond. She was off her game. Corona contraparried to the outside hastily, then returned with a thrust of her own. Camilla quickly pivoted her blade around Corona’s and slammed her knife down, levering Corona’s sword over her own blade. She hit with such swiftness and brutality that it was wrenched from Corona’s hand before she could even blink. It clattered to the ground loudly.

“Match to me,” Camilla said quickly.

Corona dropped out of her stance and sheathed her knife. The ferocity and single minded focus drained out of her eyes, and a wild grin tugged at her face. Camilla dropped out of her stance, too. “Where did you learn to fight like that?” Corona asked.

Camilla didn’t reply, careful to keep her face blank. Corona stooped over to pick up her rapier, and Camilla sheathed her blade and her rapier at once. She wasn’t pleased with herself. They wouldn’t be fighting like  _ that _ again, not if Camilla could help it. Palamedes would be disappointed. He wouldn’t say as much, but he would take off his spectacles and rub the bridge of his nose, aggrieved. He would probably say, “Camilla-” and then decide better of it, and she’d have to stew in the knowledge that she had let him down. She decided she wouldn’t tell him.

“I won’t spill your secret if you don’t spill mine,” Princess Coronabeth said, with all the ringing self-assurance that her title implied. Camilla’s shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. “I best be getting these back to Babs, before he realizes they’re gone.”

Corona gave Camilla a graceful bow, and Camilla returned it stiffly. Corona took her robe off the hedge, which seemed to be a bit of a struggle as the hedge evidently wanted to hold onto it. She shot one last smile back at Camilla, and then left her to nurse her aching wrist.

When Camilla returned to her quarters that night, the Warden’s flimsies were back in their folders and the Warden was lying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. 

“Figure out anything new?” Camilla asked.

“No,” he said broodily.

The ink stain on the floor hadn’t entirely come out, leaving a purplish-black mark on the wood that Camilla suspected was permanent. She predicted it would become the bane of her existence. She didn’t say anything. If Palamedes found this suspicious, he didn’t say anything either, and if he noticed that she spent more time polishing her sword than usual, he stayed silent on that as well. Sometimes they knew when to keep their mouths shut.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to dilapidatedcorvid for giving it a once over, to the locked tomb discord for inspiring me to write this for Get Hect'd Day, and to the groupchat for the help with the title. Finding a title is the worst part of writing, I owe u my life


End file.
